


The Statue

by voidify



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon-Typical Mutual Pining, Fluff and Humour, Humour, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, UST, crowley is a dork, crowley's houseplants cameo, the “““wrestling””” statue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 17:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidify/pseuds/voidify
Summary: Aziraphale is shown around Crowley’s apartment, and notices a certain decor item.





	The Statue

**Author's Note:**

> So Good Omens has rapidly become my favourite thing, and Ineffable Husbands with it. Inspiration struck while rewatching episode 2, and I wrote this! It’s not much, but internet friends persuaded me to post it, so here it is— my first AO3 work that isn’t Les Mis!
> 
> Inspired, of course, by Neilman’s legendary post about the statue ([here](https://neil-gaiman.tumblr.com/post/170898533526/the-statue-in-crowleys-flat-it-represents), in case there’s a single person in this ship who hasn’t seen it yet).
> 
> Thanks to onegaymore for beta and cheerleading!

Aziraphale was impressed. “These plants are beautiful, Crowley— and you say you don’t use any miracles to help?”

“Yep.” Crowley looked quite proud of himself. “The trick is, see, you make sure they know there’s consequences to failure.” Suddenly, he turned and addressed the plants, his voice full of a type of fury Aziraphale had not heard from him before. “You won’t be cut any slack just because there’s a guest over, you hear me? In fact, I’ll expect you to try even harder than usual; he better not see a single spot, a single flaw, or it’s,” Crowley imitated a mechanical whirring noise, “for any of you who thought I’d get lenient! Do _not_ let me down!” The plants were trembling now. Crowley turned back to Aziraphale, calm once more. He gestured demonstratively. “See?”

Aziraphale had quite a few further questions, but decided against asking them. “Well, that is, ah… In any case, Crowley, I cannot thank you enough for letting me stay here.”

“Don’t mention it, angel. Seriously. _Don’t_. Do you know how much trouble…?”

Aziraphale smiled to himself. It was strangely endearing when Crowley got so defensive about helping him. “Alright, I _won’t_ , dear— though it does seem a little silly to worry about that when both our Head Offices are already after us for _preventing the apocalypse_.”

“…Fair point.”

Then, Aziraphale looked down the hallway. He raised his eyebrows. “What’s _that_?”

“…A hallway. Goes to the kitchen.”

“No, the… statue at the end of it.” The statue in question, which Aziraphale could now barely look away from, depicted two winged humanoid figures— one tinged with red, the other with yellow— locked in an… unusual position.

“Oh. That. Yeah, I had that commissioned a while back. It’s a…” Crowley waved dismissively, “a representation of good and evil wrestling, with evil triumphing. Thought it was rather clever at the time.”

Aziraphale’s gaze was still fixed on the statue. “Crowley,” he said after a moment, “are you certain that they’re _wrestling_?”

Crowley was quite caught off guard by this question, it seemed, by the series of incomprehensible noises that came from his mouth. “Uh— W— Um. Yeah. What else— what else could they be—?” he said, doing a terrible job of feigning nonchalance. 

Aziraphale glanced between the statue and Crowley for a moment, speechless. [1] The longer he looked at the inanimate figures, the more they seemed to resemble himself and Crowley. “…Dear, did you truly not consider— any other interpretations…?”

“Well, ah—” Crowley appeared to have become deeply invested in examining the plant to his right. “Nope,” he answered, popping the ‘p’ as he often did. He adjusted his glasses, still not looking Aziraphale in the eye. “Right. Anyway. I mentioned the kitchen before. Never really used it myself, except for threatening failed plants with the garbage disposal, but I s’pose if you’re going to be staying here, maybe you could figure out what some of the things that came with it are for.”

Aziraphale did not attempt to reverse the change of subject. Of course, Crowley’s insistence on the statue’s innocence had only convinced him of the precise contrary— and combined with the (now almost uncanny) familiarity of the figures… well, it corroborated something Aziraphale had been faintly aware of for some time. But, Aziraphale reasoned, there was no cause not to let the topic drop; now was quite certainly not the time to have _that_ conversation. Even if he wanted to. Even if he had wanted to for quite a while. Perhaps after this was all over; once he and Crowley figured out the prophecy; once they were safe— perhaps then, _that_ conversation would happen. But, right now, they had urgent matters to attend to. And one more day of Not Talking About It on a six-thousand-year streak of Not Talking About It was nothing. [2]

“Well, for now, we ought to get to work figuring out the prophecy. Although— is the kitchen better-lit than,” Aziraphale gestured back to Crowley’s office, “back there? I’d prefer not to work in such a gloomy space.”

“It is, actually, yeah.” Crowley had mostly regained his composure.

With this confirmed, Aziraphale set off down the hallway. Crowley followed. Aziraphale was about to turn left at the end of the hallway, when he noticed a closed door on the right. He glanced at it quizzically; Crowley answered. “Oh, that’s my bedroom. Need somewhere to sleep. Well, not _need_ , obviously, but…”

Aziraphale couldn’t resist one more jest. “Perhaps that would have been a better place to put _this_ ,” he indicated the statue, “then, wouldn’t it?” 

Crowley was rendered speechless; for a moment, he unintelligibly sputtered, before finally saying “oh, shut up,” and pushing past Aziraphale into the apartment’s kitchen. Aziraphale grinned. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Though not, by any means, for lack of an answer— Aziraphale had _quite_ a clear idea of what he thought the two figures were doing. (He hadn’t much first-hand experience with it himself, but one does not learn the gavotte at the Hundred Guineas Club without also learning about a few other things two men can do together.) [return to text]
> 
> 2 And in any case, teasing Crowley about the statue was likely not the best jumping-off point to reach an earnest discussion about the feelings that had developed over the millennia. [return to text]


End file.
